


why don't you make me?

by claudiaagg



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: M/M, bev bill and stan get like one line each, everything's the same except bev didn't move and eddie stills takes his pills, lmao what's accurate characterization, the other losers are only bg characters, this is all post-pennywise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-17 21:59:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13086222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/claudiaagg/pseuds/claudiaagg
Summary: Richie Tozier loves to smoke and Eddie Kaspbrak hates it.





	why don't you make me?

**Author's Note:**

> alrightttt, so... before you read this painfully bad fic, keep in mind that: 1. it's the first thing i've written in around 2/3 years and 2. english is not my native language
> 
> [ based on a prompt by otpprompts in tumblr ]

****Richie Tozier was the kind of guy that would never shut up, no matter what. He could spend hours and hours talking non-stop, although it’s not really ‘talking’ when most of his sentences were cuss words and nicknames that annoyed whoever owned them; but the point is he was never quiet. Not unless he had a cigarette between his lips, of course.

But even when he wasn’t making any noise he still managed to piss off some of his friends by the simple act of blowing the smoke out of his mouth. Not everyone in the so-called ‘Losers Club’ was a fan of this bad habit of his, in fact, Beverly and Bill were the only Losers he shared the bad habit with, he even got it from her; the others didn’t really care, except for one who didn’t approve.

His smoking started out slowly, to experience, but ended up getting more and more frequent, to the point where it seemed like he wasn’t experimenting anymore but like he was trying to drown his fears and memories in the white clouds that left his lips. And could anyone blame him?

It’s true that a boy his age shouldn’t be smoking, but it’s also true that he went through stuff that a boy his age should never experience, or anyone for that matter. And between the influence he had at home and the whole “demon-clown trying to kill him” thing it’s really no surprise that he tried to find some kind of escape from reality. But then again, a boy his age shouldn’t be smoking.

And Eddie Kaspbrak strongly agreed.

 

**.      .      .**

 

The Losers were riding their bikes on their way to the quarry. Lately they spent most of their time there, and today was no exception. This was like their special place; not special because they had some kind of emotional connection to it, but special because it was always just them in there, it was calming and quiet, perfect to play in the water for hours or simply chill and enjoy each other’s company in silence… Or as much silence as you can get with Richie Tozier.

But one thing was wrong today: They were all, in fact, in silence. No inappropriate jokes about Eddie’s mom, no annoying nicknames, no sarcasm, no weird voices and accents, no Richie. Stan was the first one to notice Richie’s absence, which was ironic, considering how he could never put up with Richie’s crap.

—Uh, guys… —his voice a little shaken—. Where’s Richie?

Stan tried his hardest not to show it, but you could easily tell it only took two seconds to make him worry sick about Richie’s whereabouts. Even if ‘It’ was dead, a part of them would always go _there_ at any minor inconvenience.

The rest of the Losers had alarmed looks on their faces while they looked around with no sign of the dark haired boy, until they heard a loud thump followed by a very aggressive ‘fuck’ and a trail of almost inaudible swearing. They followed the muffled sound and found Richie laying on the floor with a bloody arm.

—Richie! Shit, are you okay?! —cried out Beverly as she threw herself next to him.

—I’m fucking peachy, mate! —replied Richie in a sarcastic British accent, to which Beverly rolled her eyes—. No, Molly Ringwald. I’m not okay.

The now pissed off redhead gave him the middle finger and stood up. —You know what? Die there. —she turned to face the rest of the gang—. Eddie, you’re the doctor here. Do something.

—What do you want me to do? —asked the shorter boy that a few seconds ago felt a panic attack coming, but now putting his inhaler back into his fanny pack.

—I don’t know. Give him a pill, put him into a coma. Whatever works for you best.

Eddie walked towards the injured boy and starting checking his arm with disgust because, you know, germs; meanwhile Richie explained how he got injured in the first place.

—I was just trying to light up a cigarette… —Eddie rolled his eyes—. ...and then it fell. It fell on these brown ass leaves! You know how hard it is to find a cigarette in brown leaves?

—Let me guess. Really hard? —interrupted Stan, annoyed.

—Really _fucking_ hard! —he clarified. —So I start looking for it because there’s no way I’m going to leave that bitch rotting in here and this motherfucker rock comes out of nowhere and attacks me!

—The rock… attacked you? —slowly asked Stan, poor guy was about to lose it.

—Yes! —yelled Richie—. What else would you say about a rock that gets in your way to make you fall? —he sounded almost serious about the rock getting in his way.

—Don’t know what I’d say about the rock, but I would definitely say you’re a dumbass. —said Eddie with a smirk on his face, making some of the Losers chuckle.

—You know, talking about ass… —started Richie.

—If you say something about my mother I will fucking rip your… —the shorter boy was tired of this thing Richie had with his mom, but before he could get to the threat he got interrupted by Bill.

—W-will y-ou two stop?! —both boys stopped dead to look at Bill. —T-thank you. N-now Richie, what h-happened after?

—What’d ya think, Big Bill? I fell and scratched my arm AND my beautiful face. —he said pointing at some bruises on the right side of his face.

Everyone rolled their eyes. Richie always managed to be such a drama queen, and frankly, it wasn’t even funny, just straight up ridiculous.

—So, tell me, Eds. What does Dr. K think my arm needs?

—Don’t call me that. —replied Eddie.

—What? Eds or Dr. K?

—Both.

—Sorry, no can do… Eds. —Richie loved to tease Eddie. He actually loved to tease everyone, it was kind of ‘his thing’. But he teased Eddie a lot more, for some reason it was different with him.

—Screw you, Tozier. —said Eddie as he found himself thinking if Richie would ever grow up—. But about your arm, it needs to be disinfected. Severely disinfected. —his nauseated expression would have alarmed Richie if he didn’t know the thing Eddie had for bacteria, but it wasn’t really his fault, it was all because of his overprotective mother.

—Well, get on your bike then. —randomly said Richie, as if his thoughts were displayed in some speech bubble floating besides his head.

—What for?

—We’re going to the one place we can treat my arm and beautiful face professionally without going to an actual doctor, of course. —judging by the look on Eddie’s –and everyone’s- face he needed to be more specific—. Your house, Einstein.

—What? No way! I’m not taking you to my house. Besides, my mother would go nuts if he saw you and your infected arm anywhere near me. —and he wasn’t lying, although Sonia Kaspbrak would probably freak out more about Richie being there than his arm. But he kept that to himself.

—Oh, come on, Eds. —no answer from Eddie—. Fine. But now you’ll have to spend days, maybe even weeks, near my infected arm. And you know I’m a hugger—. Eddie knew Richie was fucking with him, however, the simple thought of having to deal with so much bacteria was dizzying enough to change his mind.

—Fine. But you owe me.

—Don’t I ever? —said Richie as he put his non-infected arm around Eddie only to get it slapped away—. See ya later! —he told the rest of the gang, and after Eddie said goodbye to them they were off to the Kaspbrak household.

 

**.        .        .**

 

Once they got there, Eddie told Richie to stay outside while he checked if his mother was home or not. She rarely left the house, but the shorter boy was hoping she’d be grocery shopping or something; and as if the universe itself had listened to his wishes, Eddie’s mom wasn’t home.

—Alright Richie, you can come in. —he yelled from the kitchen, where the Kaspbraks kept all their prescriptions and some other antibiotics.

Richie walked into the kitchen ready to make a clever comment about Eddie needing birth control pills but he stopped dead on his tracks before he could get to it. —Shit… —he muttered.

—What’s wrong? —asked Eddie while lurking in the medicine cabinet.

—My fucking cigarette. —he hadn’t moved since he realized he left it in the quarry—. I went through all this fucking trouble to leave it in the fucking quarry! Fuck.

—How many more times are you gonna say ‘fuck’ in the same sentence? —Eddie’s tone was uninterested, but his words were enough to make Richie forget about his cigarette all over again and say, with a shit eating grin on his face:

—As many times as your mom did last night.

—So, not that many. —Eddie turned, with a couple bottles and boxes on his arms, and gave Richie a deadly stare that satisfied the sarcastic boy—. You know, for someone who wants, no, _needs_ my help, you certainly are getting on my nerves.

—It’s not my fault that your nerves are so sensitive! —Eddie rolled his eyes, and before he could answer the boys heard a car pull up in front of his house—. Shit! Is that your mom?

—Obviously. You have to hide somewhere. —Richie looked at him clueless—. Go to my room, now!

Eddie pushed Richie inside his room and closed the door as soon as his mother stepped into the house.

—Eddie, baby, could you help me with these groceries? —said Mrs. Kaspbrak as she let herself fall on the couch. Eddie took advantage of his mother’s laziness to re-organize the cabinet he made a mess of, and then snuck some of the stuff he grabbed before in his room; where a frustrated Richie was trying to light a cigarette.

—Where the hell did you find that?! —exclaimed Eddie as he quickly closed his door.

—It was on your mother’s coffee table. So I figured, if she didn’t want me to take it she wouldn’t have left it there, right? —said Richie with the cigarette between his lips.

—You’re so gonna end up in jail. —Eddie rolled his eyes as his alarm went off. —Shit, my pills.

—You should hurry and take your birth control quickly before we do anything in here, wouldn’t want to knock you up so soon. —joked Richie.

—First of all, that’s anatomically impossible. Secondly, are you implying that I’d sleep with you? —a smirk formed in Eddie’s lips—. I have self-respect.

—You wear a fucking fanny pack, how much self-respect can you have? —said Richie as he finally managed to light up his cigarette.

Eddie gave him the middle finger as he carefully went back to the kitchen for a glass of water. He heard his mother ask him if he was taking his pills from her comfortable sit in front of the TV, and answered with a quiet “yeah” as he poured himself some water.

He went back to his room, which was now covered in the clouds of white smoke that came out of Richie’s mouth.

—Richie, put it out! —Eddie was freaking out. What if his mother smelled the cigarette? It would be his funeral. Not only was he hiding Richie, his dumbass friend was also smoking, and in his room, to top it all.

—Why don’t you make me? —quickly replied Richie, in a… surprisingly flirty tone.

—Fuck off, Richie. I’m serious. —the shorter boy was getting worked up by now. He had to constantly deal with Richie’s crap, but this particular day had been enough for him.

—Well, so am I. —said Richie, once again, flirtatiously—. Make me.

Eddie, whose face went from “ _I’m going to kill you and dance over your grave_ ” to “ _I just got the greatest idea ever_ ”, slowly walked towards Richie and asked him to repeat what he just said.

—I said: Make. Me. —he repeated, kind of confused. The two boys were now centimeters away. Eddie got closer to Richie’s blushed face, and just when Richie was starting to close his eyes because “ _This was it, finally!_ ” he felt a splash of water hit his face.

—Did you just fucking pour a glass of water over me? —Richie was perplexed. How the fuck did everything go so bad so fast?

—Hey. You said “make me”, you didn’t say how. —said Eddie with a smirk—. Now let’s fix your shitty arm.

**Author's Note:**

> PROMPT: Person A is smoking a cigarette. Person B tells them to put it out. Person A flirtatiously says “Why don’t you make me?” Person B throws a glass of water on them.
> 
> ok so i know pretty much everyone hates the use of dashes instead of quotation marks, so i apologize if this was super hard to read. i've been using nothing but dashes for years now, but i'll try to make an effort to switch to quotation marks if i ever publish anything else.
> 
> anyways, i hope you enjoyed this shitty fanfic!


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